


You are Cozy and Cold in Your Snow, My Dear...Please Go the F*ck to Sleep

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Meta!Len, Sassy Cold Daisy, Sleepwalking, Snow, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They were poppin' outta the snow...LIKE DAISIES!" —Mushu</p><p>It's the middle of the night, and Len can't sleep. His coping methods are...unconventional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are Cozy and Cold in Your Snow, My Dear...Please Go the F*ck to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nordstrom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nordstrom/gifts).



> I would've written this Thursday, but then half my campus got sick, and the cause remains unknown. So classes were cancelled for the rest of the week! So that messed up my schedule a little. Here it is, my sweet!

The first time it happens, Lisa's woken up in the middle of the night by Mick's shaking her shoulder.

All he needs to say is "Lenny's gone" and she's up like a shot, snatching her gold gun from under her bed.

"His gun's where it's supposed to be," Mick adds, "side of the bed's still warm."

"No alarms went off," Lisa knows. Everyone would've heard that.

"No. You're better at tracking 'im; see what you can find."

That she is. Lisa's mouth quirks at the praise. "I'll do my best, baby."

He takes her to the kitchen. They're in her favorite suburban safehouse, a close second to her absolute favorite, which is a downtown apartment with a steam shower. It's a nice setup, with a counter in the middle and three chairs, with more counters lining the walls. On the far right, glass doors leading to the backyard; in the left corner, an archway leading to the front hall. What's wrong with this picture?

Lisa approaches the fridge. Still open, and recently, judging by the cold air still present. Lenny was here, and then...where did he go? A struggle would have woken at least her and Mick, which means it could've happened outside. What was Lenny doing outside? It's the middle of winter.

Nonetheless, Lisa shuts the fridge and sniffs the air. Lenny's minty aftershave fills her nose. She follows it, Mick following her, asking what she's found.

"We'll see," she mutters, arriving at the glass doors. There—a crack in the opening. Sliding it back, Lisa makes sure to have her gun at the ready. Mick does the same.

Freezing cold air rams them. They ignore it as best they can.

Hm. No bodies, no blood, but...footprints. Lisa follows them, wincing as the snow attacks her bare feet, soaking the bottom of her pajama pants. They're led to a pile of snow, a mix of hardened and fresh powder. This is where the footprints stop.

Lisa reaches into the waist band of her underwear, taking out one of her phones. Flicking on the flashlight—"Lenny!"

For there, poking out of the pile, is the top of a familiar head. A grunt emits from underneath, muffled, before Lenny stirs and shakes the snow from his face, squinting against the light.

"What the hell are you doin' out here?" demands Mick.

Lenny blinks. "What are you talking about, Mick?" he asks, annoyed, head plopping back into the snow, eyes already closing again.

Lisa rubs her face with her wrist. "Lenny," she says, gently as she can, "look around you, big brother."

He obeys. Slowly, his eyes widen to full awareness as he takes in his surroundings. He pushes himself from his pile, taking in his indent with amazement. Of course he doesn't so much as shiver, the meta bastard, just stands there in his black shirt and navy pants as if they're not soaked through and covered with snow.

"You have no idea how you got here, do you?" Mick snaps. Lenny doesn't answer, but it's all his exasperated sister and husband need to know. Transferring his gun to his other hand, Mick offers the free one to Lenny. "Come on, boss."

Lenny lets him grip the back of his neck, guiding him back inside. Lisa sighs and trudges after them.

Stupid big brothers with their stupid ice powers and their stupid sleepwalking and their stupid...she falls asleep.

* * *

The second time it happens a week later, Mick doesn't bother waking Lisa, not until he's absolutely sure that idiot isn't where he was last time. Grabbing a red flashlight from his bedside table, he pulls on his boots and, grumbling obscenities, walks out to the backyard.

Mick finds this new pile by the large elm in the far corner of the fenced yard. It's longer than last week's, and instead of Len's head, his toes are sticking out. Because he's feeling more than a little vindictive, given that it is  _two in the fucking morning_ , Mick drops his flashlight, grabs the toes in both hands, and  _yanks_.

Len immediately kicks on reflex, but Mick holds fast until he's lying on his back and blinking up at him, hands above his head.

"Evening, fuckface," Mick growls, dropping Len's feet. They land with a dull  _thud_. Before Len can open his mouth—"Yeah, you're doin' it again. And lemme tell you somethin': if this becomes a weekly thing? I'm leaving you at the mercy of your sister."

He offers his hand. Len takes it.

* * *

The third time it happens, it's the night before New Years Eve. This time, Len wakes up with his face buried between leftovers and yogurt, feeling terribly unsatisfied.

He snatches his head out, shaking it furiously. This can't keep happening, he knows; he's lucky he woke up before he could...do whatever it is he's been trying to do.

He needs to find out what's causing these-these  _fits_. Len closes the fridge and sits himself at the bar, directing the chair to face the glass doors. From there, he analyzes his dissatisfaction with the fridge(?) and waking to find himself in a pile of snow outside.

Obviously, since he goes to the fridge first, he's trying to...get something from there. As if he's testing a method. What method? Well, he thinks, what does a refrigerator and snow have in common?

Cold.

It hits Len. He's searching for  _cold_.

As soon as he snaps to this conclusion, he suddenly realizes that it's  _boiling_ in this house. Shit—it feels like the ice in his bones is melting! Who let Mick near the thermostat?

Then he remembers it was Lisa who turned on the heat. She's never unreasonable with temperature control, which means for her and everyone else, this is perfectly normal. Len's homeostasis runs on absolute zero.

That's why he's been wandering outside; his body's trying to cool itself down so it can sleep in peace. In other words, he's fucked.

Only one thing to do.

Len scribbles a quick message, slapping it on the door. Next, he goes outside, nearly groaning in relief when the cold air breathes around him. Summoning his powers, he creates a pile of snow, hardening the base and packing fresh powder on top. Once that's done, he falls head-first, curling up on his side as the snow covers him to the top of his head.

It's the most comfortable fucking thing he's ever experienced. Damn.

When Mick stomps towards the doors that night, he gets a post-it note saying  _Don't wake me up. —L_

"Oh for fuck's sake."

* * *

Len tries something after New Years celebrations die down. He gets ready for bed, pulls Mick in for a sound kiss, and tells him, "I'm sleeping outside."

Mick rolls his eyes. "Have fun, Snowflake."

Len shoves him on his way out.

"Where are you going?" Shawna calls after him.

Mick tells her, "Don't ask."

The Rogues watch anyway as their Captain makes a pile of snow and...tucks himself in.

Mardon's the first to start laughing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
